


journalism before professionalism

by Del



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Del/pseuds/Del
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiba tries to get the scoop on the regulars.</p><p>“Hey, Echizen-kun, what type of girls do you like?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	journalism before professionalism

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime between prefecturals and regionals. It's basically gen with a TezukFuji swerve at the end because I have otp issues, also crack.

Shiba hung up on Inoue before he could start coughing again. She felt a little guilty, but mostly she just felt like crushing the phone with her bare hand. Inoue was sick, like wet coughing, sneezing fit, sad-raspy-old-man-voice _sick_ but would it have _killed him_ to heave himself off his deathbed and call and tell her the assignment had been changed _before_ she commuted (with two bus transfers!) all the way to Seigaku?

 _Apparently_ they were going to bump the Seigaku interviews and run a special on Rikkai’s sixteen-year Regionals winning streak instead. _Head back to the office, Shiba. Edit the feature, Shiba. Turn around and take three buses back the way you came, Shiba._

Shiba took a deep breath and pocketed her phone. Journalism was about being flexible and chasing the story and, at _Monthly Pro Tennis_ , constantly enduring lectures about the Glory Days of Japanese tennis. This was just part of the job. Except _Inoue_ didn’t have to trudge back the office and go over the page layouts. _Inoue_ was safe in his bed hopped up on antihistamines and having fanboy wet dreams about _the great Samurai Nanjiro_.

The sun shone down brightly, oblivious to her frustration, as the cluster of regulars fanned out across the far court. The freshmen scurried to set up the nets as the regulars and preregulars went through their warm-ups. Shiba watched, suddenly slack-jawed, as Tezuka bent over into a deep stretch. There was _no way_ guys were this cool when she was in middle school. It was actually better Inoue wasn’t here to see her wiping the drool off her chin.

“Ah, Shiba-san.”

Shiba straightened up and gripped her camera reflexively. Ryuzaki Sumire walked over and stopped next to her at the fence, gazing out at the courts and rubbing her chin.

“To tell you the truth I forgot you guys were coming today. Where is Inoue-san?”

Shiba swallowed and tried to project an aura of impenetrable professionalism to replace her previous aura of predatory older woman.

“Inoue-senpai sends his apologies. He came down with the flu and is resting at home.”

Ryuzaki-sensei frowned a little at that. Shiba stopped herself from saying, _don’t worry I’m sure he’s having a good day off daydreaming about Ryoma-kun’s dad._ It was better not to speak ill of the dead or dying or pathetic.

“That’s too bad. Tell him I hope he feels better soon.” Ryuuzaki crossed her arms. “Well practice is about to get started. I take it you want to interview the regulars?”

The regulars. The young, cute, impossibly cool, hyper-talented regulars. She opened her mouth to apologize and tell Ryuzaki that the interviews had been canceled.

“Yes, thank you, Ryuuzaki-sensei,” she heard herself saying. An idea had possessed her, a great and terrible idea that would probably explode in her face.

 _Journalism is about chasing down leads_ , she told herself. 

 _Inoue-senpai isn’t here_ , she told herself when that thing about journalism didn’t make her feel better.

Shiba rubbed her hands together. It was time to ask the _really good_ questions.

\--

Ryuzaki resisted the urge to roll her eyes. On court B, Eiji was cartwheeling around Oishi, on court E Momo and Kaidoh where tussling over who got to use the ball machine first and Taka, who had been watching the fight unfold worriedly, jumped into the fray screaming “BURNING!!!!!!!!!!!” after Fuji discretely handed him a racket. On her left Tezuka made a sound that was almost a groan and Inui scratched furiously and unhelpfully in his notebook.

If they didn’t keep winning she’d seriously have to rethink how she handled them. As it was, they’d swept the prefecturals despite being a pack of idiots, so Ryuzaki didn’t really see the point in expending extra energy trying to reign in teenage boys.

“Everyone, line up,” barked Tezuka.

The regulars wandered over and spread out in front of her, a mixture of blank, amused and abjectly bored faces. The future of tennis. Ryuzaki tried not to groan as she addressed them.

“Shiba-san from _Monthly Pro Tennis_ is going to be around today to get some interviews. Try not to embarrass the school.”

Probably a lost cause. That woman had wandered off to interview Echizen, who was late as usual, which meant depending on how rude he was the interviews might stop there altogether. Still, best to warn the lot, just in case.

On her left Tezuka frowned. Talking to reporters about tennis was probably not close enough to actual tennis for Tezuka to deem it important.  Before he could protest Ryuzaki continued—

“Good publicity is good for the club, so be respectful and cooperative. We’ll run practice matches while she interviews you individually.”

Inui stepped forward to explain the special training adjustments to the matches and Ryuuzaki took a moment to close her eyes. She really hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

\--

Shiba went for the freshman first, mostly out of curiosity. The kid was normally so prickly and aloof, but she’d use this opportunity to get him to spill something good. She’d be the first one to crack the freshman ace!

She found him near the club house talking to a couple of girls she vaguely recognized. She wasted no time and strode right up to the group. Blitz attack!

“Hey, Echizen-kun, what type of girls do you like?”

Shiba canted her hip and readied her pen over her notebook. That loud girl with the pony tail squawked.  The girl in braids turned bright red and looked absolutely stunned.

“Just _what_ are you asking Ryoma-sama?!!”

Shiba narrowed her eyes and waved her notebook a little.

“I’m a journalist. Shiba Saori, _Monthly Pro Tennis_. We’ve met before.”

“Why would _Monthly Pro Tennis_ want to know what type of girl Ryoma-sama likes?!”

Rather than being stunned into awed silence after hearing Shiba’s credentials the pony tail girl had only increased in volume. The girl with the braids was fluttering her arms around, trying to calm her friend down.

When Braids finally led Pony Tail away by the shoulders, the latter still wailing something about "DISRESPECTING RYOMA-SAMAAAAAAAA," Shiba looked around and finally noticed that Ryoma had long since escaped.  He was halfway to the courts, walking resolutely away from her. Shiba jogged to catch up with him, skidding in front of him to cut him off.

New approach. She bit her lip, and looked up—er,down—at him shyly.

“Wait, Echizen-kun…it’s not just for _Monthly Pro Tennis_ , I’d also _personally_ like to know what type of girls you like.”

She gave him one of her cutest smiles. He yawned.

“This is boring. I’m already late for practice.”

He brushed past her and her flirty smile cracked into an irritated grimace.

Right before he entered the courts he called over his shoulder with a mean grin on his face.

“It’s no good anyway. I like girls who look good in braids.”

Shiba reached up to touch the ends of her cropped hair, too short for braids. That little shit.

\--

She went for Kawamura next. She needed some nice, polite answers after getting nothing out of that rude little freshman. She changed her strategy and started out slow. He seemed a little confused but he answered all her decidedly not-tennis-related questions obediently, scratching the back of his head absently.

His favorite subject was math; he liked monopoly; he had a little sister; he helped out in his dad’s sushi restaurant…

“And what type of girls do you prefer, Kawamura-kun?” she used the same tone as when asking about his hobbies: polite, cheerful, professional.

It was no good. The kid immediately started stammering and blushed all the way across to his sideburns. Shiba sighed. Plan B, then.

“Here, Kawamura-kun.”

“Eh?”

Kawamura accepted the racket instinctively. Shiba had seen it before but was still wasn’t quite prepared for the force of the change, the aura that suddenly violently radiated from him as he furrowed his brow and yelled towards the heavens,

“I LIKE GIRLS WITH GOOD FIGURES!!! YEAH BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

\--

Shiba was starting to think she only had awful ideas when Momoshiro wandered over, stretching a racket across his shoulder blades. He smiled, cheerful and confident. Shiba smiled back and readied her notebook and pen. Finally a normal one.

Momoshiro was talkative and upbeat. Like Kawamura he seemed a little thrown by the informal questions, so she threw in some questions about his play style and preferred equipment. He was waxing poetic about his favorite burger shop when Shiba decided to chance it. She leaned forward a little, smiling at Momoshiro like they were old friends.

“Say, what kind of girls do you like, Momo-chan?”

He didn’t really seem embarrassed by the question, or maybe he was just distracted by his own description of his favorite prawn burger. He tilted his head to the side.

“Girls? Uh….I like sporty girls, I guess.”

He grinned a little self-consciously and Shiba beamed. Now they were getting somewhere.

A low chuckling sound came from somewhere behind her and she looked quickly over her shoulder to see Kaidoh, who had stopped at the side of the court to grab a water bottle.

“What’s so funny, mamushi?”

Oh dear.

Kaidoh sneered and hissed.

“ _Sporty girls_?”

He’d obviously been eavesdropping. Momoshiro blanched before heat flooded into his face and he balled his hands into fists.

“Oh yeah? What about you, mamushi? I bet you like _cold-blooded girls_!”

Kaidoh glared and spat out, “As if. Girls who know how to appreciate good food are the best.”

Shiba had a sudden mental image of a contented snake, swallowing a mouse whole. She paled.

Momoshiro doubled over with laughter. Kaidoh blushed furiously and stalked over to him, grabbing his collar and pulling him upright.

“Got a problem?”

Momoshiro grabbed Kaidoh’s collar and got in his face.

“ _You_ got a problem?”

Shiba gulped. Interview over.

\--

Shiba chewed her lip. It was weird talking to someone when you couldn’t really see their eyes. Across from her, Inui finished scribbling in his notebook and tucked it under one arm.

“So, Inui-kun—”

“Judging by your interactions with the rest of the team you are not here on behalf of _Monthly Pro Tennis_ in any official capacity and these interviews are merely attempts to gain personal data on our regulars.”

Shiba snapped her mouth shut and regarded her opponent. She couldn’t catch a break. Weren’t any of these kids normal? Didn’t _anyone_ want to talk to a cute girl journalist without bursting into flames or getting into fist fights?

Inui adjusted his glasses.

Shiba sighed loudly. There was no point lying about it. She thought she was off the hook when Ryuzaki didn’t shut the whole thing down after Kawamura started yelling about loving “SLIM BODIES!!!!” but it looks like she had underestimated the manager.

“However,” Inui smiled, sensing victory was close at hand. “I will not alert our coach or captain if you share with me all the data you have collected in these interviews.”

Shiba swallowed. She had no choice. What a frightening kid.

“Deal.” She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced back at the courts. “You might as well send Eiji-kun over, I doubt you’ll answer any of my questions.”

Inui smiled coldly and nodded.

“Your assumption is correct.”

She expected him to leave immediately but he lingered a moment.

“In the interest of completeness you may add to your data that I prefer older women.” When Shiba began doing an exuberant victory dance— _finally, someone who appreciates her feminine charms_!!—Inui grimaced and swiftly added: “Calm women.”

Shiba’s shoulders slumped. These goddamn kids.

\--

Eiji bounced a little, and flipped his racket around his wrist.

“Hey, hey, are we going to be on the cover?”

Shiba smiled around her lie.

“That's up to my boss, Eiji-kun.”

No, never. There is no article. But Inui wasn’t telling and neither was she.

She turned to the next page in her notebook and smiled at Eiji.

“What type of girls do you prefer, Eiji-kun?”

Eiji stopped flipping his racket for a moment and bit his lip before continuing the motion.

“Huh? That’s a weird question. I guess I prefer cheerful girls…you know the ones you can joke around with.”

Shiba laughed loudly in a large show of cheerfulness but tapered off when Eiji just stared at her blankly.

She was striking out everywhere. This was the worst.

\--

Shiba didn’t have any problems with Fuji’s interview, not exactly. His answers were polite and immediate and he smiled the whole time. He stood with his hands in his pockets and spoke in a soft, breezy voice.

It wasn’t until she was in the middle of describing an incident in her senior year in college that she realized she had _answered_ more questions than she had _asked_. A little flustered and ticked off, she forged ahead with her million dollar question.

“Enough about me, what type of girls do you prefer, Fuji-kun?”

“Oh, I like girls with _pretty fingers_ , Saori-chan.”

Fuji giggled then and Shiba realized with no small degree of annoyance (and some respect) that he’d probably been playing her the whole time.

\--

 _Only two interviews left_ , Shiba told herself. She wouldn’t get to interview Kaidoh, not that she’d been particularly looking forward to that, since he and Momoshiro were assigned indefinite laps for causing a scene, twice—once in front of a reporter. Ryuzaki had long since retired to her office with a headache and Tezuka had simply yelled “LAPS!” without specifying the length of the punishment.

She looked at Oishi, who looked earnestly back, brow furrowed slightly in concern, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. No mind games with this one, what you see is what you get.

It turned out Oishi was helpful, almost too helpful. He seemed overly concerned with reflecting well on Seigaku and gave stiff and measured answers to all the questions, even boring ones like what was his favorite racket.

“What types of girls do you like, Oishi-kun?”

“I like girls with glasses,” Oishi said, back straight. “However, like all the members of the tennis club, I like and respect all females.”

\--

Last interview, and the one she’d most been looking forward to after Echizen’s. Seeing how that one turned out she should have anticipated that Tezuka’s interview would be a let-down. The kid was taller than her, and gazed down with his arms crossed in total confidence. Not arrogance, just the look of someone who had always effortlessly commanded respect. It was kind of annoying, coming from a middle schooler.

He paused before each answer, not to think, but as if asking himself if it was really necessary to respond. The tennis related questions came easily enough, and then the answers got more curt and dry as they got through the school related questions and started to edge around his personal life.

Tezuka gazed out onto the courts while she was talking, eyes scanning the other regulars who were paired off in practice matches. His gaze stopped at the match between Fuji and a third year. Fuji had his eyes closed and was barely sweating. He sent the ball over the net in a wide lob and the third year returned it immediately with a smash. Fuji giggled.

Shiba thought she saw Tezuka’s eyebrow twitch. He clearly wasn’t paying attention anymore.

“ _I said_ , Tezuka-kun, what type of girls do you prefer?”

Tezuka didn’t tear his eyes off the court where Fuji was serving. It was a slow serve, even Shiba could tell, that landed near the baseline and the third year rushed forward to return it.

“I like,” Tezuka ground out, “girls who _always try their best_.”

Shiba snapped her notebook shut with a huff. This wasn’t going anywhere.

\--

Inoue picked up on the third ring, but took several seconds to try and clear his throat to actually _speak_. Shiba breezed ahead anyway.

“Hi Inoue-senpai, it’s Shiba. I’m at the office. I just got finished editing the Rikkai feature, everything looks good.”

Inoue coughed what was probably agreement or maybe he was just choking.

“I also took some time to talk to some of Seigaku’s team, hope you don’t mind. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”

Inoue’s choking noises finally ended in a loud string of coughs, and when his voice finally drifted weakly over the line, he sounded almost pleased, if not totally sick and miserable.

“That’s really excellent, Shiba-kun. Thanks for your hard work. I look forward to hearing what you ah, learned, ah--”

He launched into a string of pitiful sneezes. Shiba hung up on him for the second time that day and buried her head in her hands. _What she learned?_ That middle schoolers were totally immune to her feminine charms and some of them were actually _evil_.

\--

 

> From: Sadaharu, Inui <hakase63@servenett.com>
> 
> Subject: RE: Interview Notes
> 
> Message:
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for your cooperation, Shiba-san. I found your data quite interesting although obviously flawed in some areas.
> 
> However, I must remind you that our verbal agreement only stated that I would not report to our coach or captain. If you wish to ensure my total silence I suggest you forward any data you obtain on other schools to this email account.
> 
> I look forward to working with you.
> 
> Inui
> 
>  
> 
> On Wed, Jun 23, Shiba Saori <shibas@moprotennis.com> wrote:
> 
>  
>
>> _Inui-kun, I’ve scanned and attached my interview notes as we discussed._
>> 
>> _Therefore I must respectfully insist that you never speak of this again to anyone. Ever._
>> 
>> _-_
>> 
>> _Shiba Saori_
>> 
>> _Editor, Monthly Pro Tennis_
>> 
>> _shibas@moprotennis.com_

\--

When the clubhouse finally emptied out Tezuka allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Having that reporter woman around had completely disrupted practice, not to mention some of her questions had been a little inappropriate. Tezuka hoped none of that went to print, but he’d done his best to represent Seigaku and that’s really all anyone could ask of him.

“Exciting day, huh?” Fuji said, pressing himself up against Tezuka on his toes, almost eye to eye.

Tezuka closed his eyes and felt Fuji’s smile press against the side of his neck.

“I don’t think any of that will show up in _Monthly Pro Tennis_ ,” Fuji continued, as if he’d been reading Tezuka’s thoughts.

Tezuka felt Fuji sliding down onto his knees. Tezuka’s eyes jerked open when Fuji rested his head high on Tezuka’s thigh, breathing his next words right across Tezuka’s hip—

“But you know I heard you prefer girls who try their best. That really hurts, Tezuka-buchou!”

Tezuka looked down at Fuji who was smiling up at him through his lashes, distractingly close to between Tezuka’s legs. Tezuka swallowed, couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and carding through Fuji’s hair. He’d let it grow longer this year, it looked good, everything Fuji did looked good…

Fuji giggled and leaned into the touch. Tezuka groaned and tipped his head back, knocking it against the wall of the clubhouse.

“Fuji…”

Tezuka tugged upwards gently on Fuji’s hair, and Fuji went, rising slowly until they were both standing again. Tezuka tried to focus. He saw his own hand splayed possessively at the back of Fuji’s head and the way Fuji’s smile quirked right before he pressed their hips sharply together.

Tezuka’s focus evaporated along with the words he meant to say, he was half hard and Fuji was grinning, crowding him against the clubhouse wall until Tezuka finally kissed him.

It wasn’t until later that Tezuka finally broke off, glasses eschew and said, a little breathless—

“I think,” Tezuka felt heat rising on his face as Fuji licked his slightly swollen lips, “you know that I don’t prefer girls.”

Fuji grinned and wormed his arms between Tezuka and the wall, linked his hands at the small of Tezuka’s back and waited for him to continue.

“However,” Tezuka frowned a little when Fuji squirmed distractingly, “I was watching your game today.” Tezuka met Fuji’s eyes and tried to add weight to his words. “It wouldn’t kill you to play seriously.”

Fuji laid his head on Tezuka’s collarbone. Tezuka felt Fuji take a deep breath, pressed against his chest, and felt his sigh blow over his shoulder when he exhaled.

“You’d play seriously even if it _would_ kill you,” Fuji said softly.

Tezuka could hear a light patter on the roof before he could respond, the stuttering start of a summer rainstorm.

Fuji raised his head abruptly, grinning again.

“I forgot my umbrella today.”

Tezuka sighed.

\--

They walked to the bus stop together in the rain, one umbrella between them. The wind blew the warm rain right across their backs anyway. Tezuka felt water dripping into the back of his shoes and hoped his bag wasn’t getting wet. Fuji put his hand over Tezuka’s on the umbrella handle.

“I like your fingers,” Fuji said without preamble.

Considering this was Fuji and considering what they’d just done in the clubhouse, it was probably a euphemism. Tezuka flushed and looked straight ahead.

“When are you going to remember your umbrella?”

“Maybe never,” Fuji said and pressed closer to Tezuka’s side. 

**Author's Note:**

> types-they-prefer adapted from the translated profiles [from here](http://kuryujiru.livejournal.com/1534.html)


End file.
